


cue dramatic romance music

by remembermyfic



Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [11]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: It’s too long before Dani finally says, “He’s left me in a bit of a difficult spot.”“Dani, just fucking tell me what’s going on!”“He’s asked for a new editor.”Jack feels her stomach drop to the floor. “What?”
Relationships: Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid
Series: 2019 Snail Mail Advent Calendars [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564486
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	cue dramatic romance music

**Author's Note:**

> If you know them, you click the little close option. I don't make the rules. 
> 
> As per usual, edit issues are my own. Sometimes my own language runs away from me.

Dani doesn’t even glance up when Jack storms into her office. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it very much won’t be the last. Despite the temper and frustration simmering in Jack, she has to admit, she’s grateful for the understanding Dani’s always shown her employees.

“He hasn’t submitted shit.”

“I would hope not.” Dani’s tone is painfully bland. She flips another page. “That’s not our style.”

Jack swallows down her growl, but it’s a close thing. “Dani.”

When Dani glances up again, she calmly sets down her pen and waves to a chair. Jack doesn’t sit. Dani doesn’t make her.

“Is this McDavid?”

“Isn’t it always McDavid?”

“No. Three months ago you fought with Gallagher for an hour over whether a scene used a cat of nine tails or a whip.”

“I just want her to do her research for five seconds out of her life.”

“Jack.”

Jack hates that the fight drains out of her. “Of course it’s McDavid. His projected publish date is in eight months and I have literally nothing, Dani. Not even shit.”

Dani is quiet for long enough that Jack knows something’s up. “Have you tried calling?”

“Voicemail.”

“Ah.” Dani leans back in her seat.

“What?”

It’s too long before Dani finally says, “He’s left me in a bit of a difficult spot.”

“Dani, just fucking tell me what’s going on!”

“He’s asked for a new editor.”

Jack feels her stomach drop to the floor. “What?”

“It’s not about your skill,” Dani says, though Jack is very aware of that. “And it’s not about who you are as a person.”

Okay, the second part Jack doesn’t wholly believe. Connor wouldn’t be the first author who turtled because her expectations are sky high. “Then what is it?”

“He wouldn’t actually give me details,” Dani admits. “I didn’t push.”

“On our top author?”

“Jack. This is entirely unprecedented for all of us.”

“Is it a prima donna thing?”

“You know it’s not. Connor’s the easiest author we have on contract. He’s never given us a single issue.”

“Until now,” Jack says, and it’s unnecessary, but she feels irrationally better having said it. “Did you move him.”

“Not officially,” Dani finally answers. “He’s sent me some preliminary work.”

“So it is about me.”

Dani’s face transforms. Jack can’t read it on a good day, but this… this is something else. “Not in the way you think, Jack. Talk to him.”

“I’ve been trying!”

Dani waits for a minute, then goes into her desk and pulls out a post it. She scribbles an address on it. “We’ll pretend you’re working remotely,” she says, holding out the post it. “You’ll need to book a flight and rent a car.”

The post it holds an address. Jack has literally no idea where Port Carling is.

“What the fuck is this?”

Dani doesn’t flinch. Dani never flinches. “Go find out.”

Port Carling, as it turns out, is a middle of nowhere town in Ontario. She flies into Toronto, and follows her phone’s GPS further and further north. Fuck Canada, seriously. The cottage she pulls up to, however, is breathtaking. It makes her think of summers in the Cape and she feels breathless with it.

Connor doesn’t answer on her first knock. Nor her second and she has half a panic attack wondering if she’d driven all this way for nothing. When she goes around the house, however, she sees a figure standing on the edge of the dock. She’d know Connor’s broad shoulders anywhere and if she were a little less angry, she’d probably see how much of this mirrored Connor’s work.

Instead, she storms down to the dock. Connor has a half a second to register it’s her, surprise clear as day on his face before she gives him her hardest shove.

“You coward!”

He flails as he goes down.

Right into the water.

It feels exceedingly more cathartic than Jack had anticipated.

“Jack,” he splutters when he surfaces. “How did you get here? How did you know I was here?”

“You have been ignoring my e-mails and my phone calls, and went behind my back to ask for a new editor,” she says, and her finger is definitely threatening. “You have no right to give me the third degree.”

He at least looks sheepish about it. “It’s not why you think?”

“I don’t think anything!” she exclaims, and it’s the shocking truth. “I don’t know what to think!”

Connor hoists himself back onto the deck. Jack lets him, and if she gets caught in the way his shirt clings, there’s no one to call her out on it.

“I didn’t know how to ask,” he says. He looks genuinely remorseful, which pisses Jack off all the more. “It’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s become a conflict of interest.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? We’ve been working together for years and never once has there been the whiff of a conflict of interest.”

When Connor finally meets her eyes, there’s so much in his face. “I’ve been writing about you for years.”

She can’t stop the gasp that comes out of her mouth.

“It took me a long time to realize I was doing it. Maybe too long, because by the time I did… We had a rhythm. We had a relationship and I didn’t want to just hand my books over to someone else. I trusted you with them, like I’ve trusted few other people, and that’s not easy to give up, even if my feelings were a mess.”

“Feelings,” she says, more than a little choked.

“I’m in love with you. And I can’t write because I’m at the point where the next novel is a love letter. I couldn’t let you see that.”

“Why not?” she blurts. She has no idea where the bravery comes from.

“It would have fucked up our relationship.”

“You did it anyway!” she exclaims. “You went behind my back.”

“I know,” he groans. “I know. Look, I just… what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know! Tell me?”

“So you can tell me to fuck off and move me to another editor anyway?”

“I’m telling you to fuck off now! For not telling me!”

Connor presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Jack steps closer, her heart thundering, not entirely sure what her next move is. So when she grips his soaking wet tshirt and drags him towards her, she surprises them both.

It takes them a moment to straighten out the kiss, but when they do, Jack feels her heart flip over, feels tingles spread through her body. His hands come around her waist, and while she’s not a small woman, the breadth of his hands makes her feel like she’s tiny. He kisses her like it’s the only time he’ll be able to, pouring everything into it, desperate.

“Fuck you,” she says when they part, when she rips them apart because Connor certainly doesn’t seem ready to do so. “Fuck you for making me fly up here for you.”

“I don’t know,” he says, and she can hear the joy infused in his voice when he kisses her quickly. “It feels pretty romantic to me.”

“If this ends up in a fucking book-“

Connor laughs. “Jack, it already is.  _ Dangerous Summer _ .”

“You wrote that two years ago.”

“It’s very attractive that you have my entire body of work memorized.”

Jack shivers, pleased. “I’ve spent hours on them. Poured a lot of blood, sweat and tears into those novels.”

“And love.”

Jack feels her heart leap into her throat. “Maybe someday.”

**Epilogue**

Jack doesn’t hate author conventions. They’re her bread and butter a lot of the time, better than the inbox of submissions for finding authors that truly want to make the difference. Being there with Connor doesn’t make it any better, nor does the hilarious dynamic duo of Mitch and Dylan. Brenda might, if she hooks up with the PR person from Habs International. Jack has money on that.

She sighs as yet another young woman approaches the mic. This has been her last hour, and there’s a part of her that wants to shake all of these people so they understand romance is fucking work. It’s not a novel.

Then again, she’s the one that was whisked away to the top of a mountain for a very elaborate proposal, so perhaps she shouldn’t throw too many stones.

“This is a question for everyone,” the woman says. It’s a nice change. All of the questions have been for Connor. He’s the biggest author up there. Jack Hughes has the potential, but she’s not there yet. It’s generally against the rules to poach authors, but Hughes shares the same literary agent as Connor and, well. Six degrees of separation.

“Who is the first person who reads your manuscript?”

“My sister,” Hughes answers. “Maybe her boyfriend if it’s the offseason and they’re attached at the hip.”

“My editor,” answers another author. And it’s echoed for three or four panel members before it’s Connor’s turn.

“My wife,” is Connor’s thoughtless answer. He turns bright red. “I mean-“

It’s too late. The damage is done. They’ve been keeping the marriage quiet, not out of shame but because Jack still edits Connor’s work sometimes and they don’t want things to get out of hand.

“My wife doesn’t see it until it’s the final copy!” one of the authors exclaims.

“Way to make us all look bad, man.”

“It’s not my fault!” Connor argues. “She’s my former editor! It’s not the same thing.”

Jack sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going to be all over Twitter in thirty seconds. She pulls out her phone to dial Dani.

“Hey. Cat’s out of the bag. Did marketing finish that press release? Awesome. Tell them to dust it off and edit it up.” She glances back to the stage, where Connor’s grinning, but still dealing with clamouring fans, and affectionately disgruntled fellow authors. “We’re going to need it.”


End file.
